


Anyder Alumni

by JanuaryBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Billionaire!Emet, Choking, College!WoL, Convocation, Creampie, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fluff, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Chronological, Non-Linear Narrative, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Slice of Life, Smut, Zodiark and Hydaelyn Inc., college!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21658075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanuaryBlue/pseuds/JanuaryBlue
Summary: Amaurot, the great metropolis; home to the famous Anyder University. You are a poor, meager college student, living in the dorms, attending classes far too early in the morning, studying for exams far too late in the semester.He's Emet-Selch. An infamous billionaire and executive of an extremely powerful, wealthy, and ultra-secretive conglomerate - Zodiark Corp.Turns out he attended Anyder - no surprise there. He was in the Convocation, too. From the moment you and him meet, to the moment you start dating, you find out about more and more you have in common with him - all the ways you are deeply, shockingly, delightfully compatible.You also have tons of sex. (He's really good at it. Like, really good.) Other things, too, but there's a lot of sex.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Reader, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 14
Kudos: 110





	1. Dinner Date

Prudence, Emet-Selch claims, is an essential virtue, vital to anyone who wished to do something significant in life. One could never go too far without foresight, without planning for the distant future.

The toy buzzes from inside you as you sit down at the dinner table, reminding you of just how _prudent_ your Emet-Selch is.

“Is something the matter, my dear?” He says, a sweet half-smile lifting his lips at the corner.

Something is absolutely the matter. _Something_ is vibrating away inside you, even as your bottom hit the plush, luxurious seat; only the best for him and his, naturally. The server glances between the two of you, eager to assist, just beginning to offer water, the wine selection –

“Oh, we’re quite ready.” Emet smiles lighter for the waiter as he places his order and yours, never taking his eyes off you.

He had better not dare. Sitting there and witnessing this torment he is actively participating in is the very least he could do. It is a faint balm to your frustration that the sight of you sparks something in his eyes, catching the light like low caramel, deepening his voice into a purr.

All that spares your _pride_ is the want you see, the barely contained desire and need that tugs at his features, tucked carefully away behind those playful, teasing lips.

Your legs tense, tighten, twitches and tremors inevitably running through them as the toy continues its low vibrations.

You pull your legs back against the legs of your chair, press them to cool wood, draw your fingers over the fine cutlery laid out on the table; anything to distract you from this agonizing, unfulfilled, _delightful_ pool of warmth in your lower half that grew with every passing moment.

The hum that burrows its way into your flesh, working you to warmth and eagerness but doing nothing more, a pleasant buzz that leads nowhere. It has you _itching_ with desire, ready and wanting, even as you can feel yourself dripping, painfully wet; the stimulation is too much to ignore and not enough to _really_ get you going.

Emet smirks at you, the cruel creature, laying his chin on one hand, curled – you can just see the remote glinting in his palm, hidden from all but you. The setting increases, vibrating harder.

Where once was a pleasant hum is now a fervent shudder, crackling all throughout your lower half and drawing yet more of your attention to your entrance and the soft, foreign intrusion that send pleasure radiating through you. Instinctively tightening, your muscles are met with the erratic resistance of the toy’s vibrations, quickly exhausting but trembling with helpless joy.

Your eyes widen as you stifle a gasp in your throat, but he notices, the bastard. Laughing causally, leaning his face back and gesturing out with his hand as though he’s just heard you make a witty comment.

“I hope you’re enjoying your evening,” It’s a dark tone you take, almost a threat; Emet’s pupils dilate, and you can tell he takes it as one.

He wets his lips, that sinful tongue you can’t help but imagine the brush of – _down there_ – his eyes are glittering up at you just as they always did when he’d looked up at you, but now you can see his mouth. His lips. Dark and purple like bruises, perfectly shaped, just plump enough to bite at but thin enough for his elegant, narrow face.

“As much as _you_ are enjoying yours? I couldn’t possibly.” Emet meets your eyes with a wicked smile.

Son of a – 

The sound of your own body dragging, a sharp jerk against the seat, sets you on edge almost as much as the hum you swear you can _hear_ as much as you feel, no matter how assured you were that it was truly silent to anyone else.

He _keeps_ setting the thing even higher, and you hear clattering on the table as your hands clench in front of you. The _bastard_.

“How generous of you,” You gripe, voice low as you hold it desperately tight, so it does not shake along with the toy, “Rest assured I intend to return the favor.”

“Do you, now?” He taunts, shifting his arms at his sides, and in one gloved hand you spy the remote.

“Emet!” Hissing, you forget yourself momentarily and swing forward at the table.

As you move the toy shifts inside you, brushing and vibrating against new places; _particular_ places.

Tremors shake through your walls, your whole lower body, waves of heat merging into an electric pinch. Radiating from your clit through to the whole of your body; you feel yourself just _almost_ start to clench along with those low pulses of pleasure, stopping just short of euphoria.

Close, close, so close – 

Still, you grind out, “We are in _public_.”

“Are we? My dear, how kind of you to point it out; I hadn’t noticed.”

You blink at the taunting edge to his tone, smug and sarcastic, content to rub your legs together for just a bit – _just a bit more_ stimulation –

Until you see him press a button.

The toy stills. Your tension, the eager pull of arousal dulls at once, the nearness to climax gone in an instant. All that’s left is silicone, warm and placid against your walls aching for something, _anything_. But there is only stillness, and the ever-present awareness of the object lodged inside you, mute and unmoving.

“Fucking tease.”

“We are in _public_ , dear.”

You stare him down, and he meets your glare completely unperturbed. “Are we, now? That isn’t how you were acting before.”

“It did not seem prudent to brandish this thing about and have it seen by our server, earlier. Or do you disagree?” He slips it back in his coat pocket without looking, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I can think of something I’ll brandish to you _later_.” You shoot back, and he laughs, which would annoy you if that hadn’t been what you wanted.

Oh, you’ve got prudence, all right.

You’ll make your diligence quite clear to him later, in bed, when you show him just how direct you can be in your pursuit of pleasure. And just how good your memory was, the lengths you’d go to in order to see his face twist, to see him shake like he’d gotten to watch _you,_ squirming at the dinner table like this…

Prudence and dedication aplenty. However pleasantly the dinner goes – the server lays down your meals, you both smile and thank him, taking to your meal with perfect dignity and decorum.

“Rest assured, love. I will come prepared.” Emet says, lurid gold staring you down past choice cuts of steak and silverware worth more than any jewelry you own.

“Come?” You mutter darkly, “We’ll see about that. If I don’t get to, neither do you.”

“Really now? In _public?”_

“You were the one who suggested it!” It takes effort, to keep your voice from rising into a shout, but he’s quick to retort anyways.

“If you truly wish, I would have you here and now. _In public.”_ He leans forward, more than is appropriate at a dinner table, but those concerns are furthest from your mind at the moment, _“_ If you like, I won’t even come unless you tell me I can.”

No, he won’t. But not here and now. You feel your face heating, against your will, even as wetness leaks over your lower half. Over the toy. Silicone heated by your flesh, still pulsing with arousal.

“Take me on the table in full view of the restraint? Like some common whore? And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

“Let us return home and see just how much of a gentleman I _really_ am.”

You scoff. “You haven’t even finished your dinner. And we ordered dessert, too.”

“Ah,” Emet leans back in the chair, folding his arms, but immediately uncrossing one to take another bite from his steak, “Quite right. Crème brûlée and butter cake à la mode, with strawberries.”

Lips twitching – as much as your lips _below_ are, aching to be touched, to be kissed by something living and breathing and hopefully not sassing you, instead of this inert device – you ask, “With strawberries? Which one of us was that for?”

He meets your gaze head on.

“Which one? If you wanted dessert, you should have ordered one.”

It’s enough to make you burst out laughing, anger rationed away to a box you’ll open later – when he’s begging for you, tonight – and you smile at him, radiantly.

“I’ve forgotten, it seems,” You sing at him, leaning in yourself, watching him avert his gaze as you stare up at him with intent adoration. “My sweet Emet-Selch, could you perhaps be bothered to share a bit? With _me?”_

Emet only scoffs, of course, but you know his answer already.

“Always,” He knows you know, but he says it anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Remember how I was going to uh. Update Preconceptions weekly? We'll see about that, finals are next week and I really need to perform. *sigh* Next semester is my last before I graduate so... 
> 
> Anyways, I've written these much smaller pieces - like, some of them under 1k words small - mostly to share with friends on discord, all in good fun. But I've been encouraged to share them on here, because I get frustrated when I don't post or update anything regularly, and I have a few pieces for this series pre-written already. Expect updates sporadically, but potentially often, because they're supposed to be very small works as a modern AU, I'm able to draw inspiration for chapters from real life. 
> 
> Tbh most of the first few chapters will be porn. I do have non-porn chapters, but most of them are fluff or cute romance pieces. Hope you guys enjoy!


	2. Whine

“Will you _stop,”_ Emet-Selch hisses between pants, thrusting low and heavy into you, flesh meeting flesh with a delicious, lewd slap before he pulls out straightaway to throw his hips forwards again, _“Whining?”_

It’s not the right thing for him to say – you just let out another low, high sound as he bottoms out inside you again.

“You fussy creature.” A hand drifts up your back from your hips, shoving the front of you further into the bed, even as he yanked your backside into him, hand pressed wide and flush onto your abdomen, barely tickling the hair below.

“I would never have asked for this position normally, you know full well how I prefer to see your face during all of this.” He gripes and gripes, and perhaps a word of it would be believable, could you not hear his own panting, feel the pulse of him pounding with lust just as desperate as your own.

He’s rock hard inside you, almost enough to hurt, if it weren’t burning warm and dragging across your insides smooth, fluid movements that nonetheless set your walls alight with searing pleasure.

Every outward tug has you crying out for more, every time he plunges back in you choke on your own moans, filled and filled, a delicious stretch that sears outwards in electric sensation. And you can’t even see his _face_. 

Yes, poor Emet-Selch. He must be so miserable back there, staring at your ass while he fucks you so hard you’re sure you won’t be walking for a while after this.

And _you_ get to examine the pattern on these beautiful, exquisite sheets you’ll no doubt be intimately familiar with as you rest on them for probably the rest of this day and maybe even the next.

In fairness, it’s a fairly pretty pattern. Not that you give Emet the satisfaction.

“What, giving me the silent treatment?” His voice is suddenly in your ear, his front flush against your back as he lays himself long and hard into you, this time without withdrawing.

His cock pulses inside you, hot and ready but stilled with his motions.

Squirming, wiggling, does nothing, not with his hold on your hips; you wouldn’t be able to writhe loose without throwing him off entirely. It’s such a terrible, _delicious_ sense of fullness, you can almost feel his every heartbeat as his flesh throbbed within your own. Exquisite, delicious, and completely unsatisfying.

You whimper, long and low, clutching at the sheets as you clench around him, drawing out a moan from him that trickles into a laugh.

“Ah, yes. When you put it like that, I suppose it _is_ a poor excuse for a silent treatment.” The tone of delighted triumph would be annoying if it weren’t so innately charming.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Complaint after complaint,” Emet says with a chuckle, in that low, smooth tone he knows does things to you.

He draws out nonetheless, his palm trailing down your abdomen to meet the crest of your slit. Fingers dig into your folds, raw and pulsing in arousal, a press into your sex crying out for contact, glorious stimulation –

“You know,” You say, and pant, as his fingers, clever as his tongue, find your clit, “You’ve spent far more time complaining about my ‘whining’ than I’ve spent speaking at all.”

You can _hear_ him smile.

“You have a point, my dear,” He says, delight tickling his voice and your desperate, aching sex, “Here, then. Take your much-deserved reward.”

He **slams** into you, hard and fast and all rush of sensation sliding across your insides, slick and hot and clenching desperately even as he plowed through you. Even then, his fingers rub and twist at your clit, sending low, keening cries through you as you build up to your final completion.

One more thrust, then another, a hard stroke over your clit and a twist when he fills you once more, the sharp, exquisite tug of lust in your lower half coalescing with the heavy, throbbing length of him. All of it melting together into a glorious rush of euphoric sensation, rippling from your lower half into your whole body.

You feel him, too, release with a noise you’re sure he’d rather you not remember, a moan you feel more than you hear with his back pressed hard against you.

Heat fills your insides and he does slip out, but it’s far too hot, too sore, to feel empty. Only bliss, a raw tenderness that just barely edges out the satisfaction, but his arms around you as he falls to lay at your side quickly return you to comfort.

“And besides,” He says, obnoxious as ever; you don’t need to look at all to see that adorable, annoying half-smile on his face, “You rather _like_ my whining, if I recall correctly. I can get you going reasonably well with just my voice, hmmmm.”

The sound he drags out makes you nearly tremble in delight and anticipation, despite having just reached your peak.

Insufferable man. You’ll need to take him down a peg after this – a good yank to his hair, tugging his face in front of yours to plant an unyielding kiss on his lips, is a start. First you’ll fill that chatty mouth of his, then you’ll make him sing –

You _do_ ever so enjoy his whining for you, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact - I actually just wrote this in like an hour or something. Very short and... is "sweet" the right word? Not as long as my usual work at all, but that just means it's easy to produce. Hope you guys enjoyed!


	3. Crown

You clutch at the crown of his hair, all you can reach from so far away, his head buried between your legs. It slips through your fingers, soft and fluttering like feathers, just brushing the edge of your grasp as it’s torn out of place, wild and ruffled.

With a whine you let your arms fall down, and he quickly brushes them aside with his hands, pushing you away to clutch at the sheets while he goes back to settle his grip into the bones of your hips.

His tongue thrusts into you, deeper than it has any right to be, twirling inside your walls and catching on the sides, licking and writhing against pulsing heat. Only his hold on you keeps you from bucking up into him, but you hardly need to; he presses his face harder into you still.

Soft nose now firmly wedged into the apex of your folds, lips circling your entrance as his tongue swirled within like the tendril of some unearthly entity.

Smooth, raw flesh pulses in its wake, and you feel yourself clenching and _clenching_ around a slick, wet thing that evades and squirms at your every movement. He _laps_ at you, devouring your flavor even as he draws his tongue along you in an intentional friction that is only there because your blood pounds desperately through your every point of contact.

All the while his lips work at your folds, closed tight around your sex, plump and pressed tight to your arousal. Frenetic penetration within, coursing through you erratically, compounded by the smooth mold of his lips to your flesh.

Pressure builds and builds as your blood pools in your abdomen, pleasure blooming with the tightness in your entrance and dissipating through the whole of you. And you’re drawn back again, down, to the lapping at your walls. Ever-present, slippery muscle against your insides, pulsing and pulsing with each new wave of glorious sensation.

Every nerve lights up with desperate contact and you contract _again,_ this time feeling every fiber of his tongue drag against you as he pulls it out, slowly, deliberately. Drawing it out as you cry out, humming along to let you feel an extra buzz, _inside yourself._ Yet another feeling, another spark added to the flame that had yet risen far past the point of containment.

With a final high, sharp noise, you moan out your climax, legs pulling tight as he withdraws. Swirling about the delicate skin of your entrance as though to taste every drop of your release.

Relaxing, you reach down to thread your fingers in his hair, feeling the tension held release, your body relax.

Emet pulls away, just peeking up at you from between your legs, golden eyes glinting. He sees your face for but a moment, only long enough to smile at you a smile that struck a horrified excitement from deep within.

“Oh my dear,” You feel each word against your sex, wet and welcoming even as you could feel your every heartbeat through your sore folds, “Did you think you were finished? That I was finished?”

No. No, no. No.

An exhale of breath ghosts over flesh still thrumming with satisfaction, stoking embers back into flames, new heat arising in your sex with just a touch that’s hardly there.

Yes.

“I mean to see,” He breathes, lips brushing against your folds in a tickle that stings hard, sweet pleasure on overactive nerves bared to the open air, “Just how many more times you _can_ finish.”

He descends upon you again, intending to consume you entirely.

Right away, it’s too much, far too much, and yet not nearly enough to drag you to a peak you’d long since crested.

This time he does not play at entering you, his tongue glides through your folds quickly and easily, well lubricated by your earlier release. It strokes and toys at tender flesh, raw and hot and nearly numb at the swell of electric sensation.

The rush of adrenaline, of endorphins; you couldn’t move your arms even if you tried, not unless you drew upon the vaster well of power reserved for yet greater moments of weakness. Clawing in helpless abandon at the silk sheets that slide easily from your grasp, you’re left to do nothing but moan at his ministrations.

Even the sound does not seem to reach your ears; all you feel of it is the trembling in your throat, the catch of breath as his lips graze your clit and strike lighting straight through you. Then, you hear your cry, but do not feel it, your senses coalescing at your core where pleasure pooled once again.

Emet chuckles, the wicked, merciless man, vibrations flying straight through skin too sensitive to feel it, tugging at flesh beneath. Rippling through your walls, coiling and tightening around emptiness while he slavers over you, replacing the wetness he’d since licked away.

Your grasp on the world outside your sex becomes tenuous as his ministrations grow stronger. He doesn’t enter you, doesn’t dip his tongue any further then the very edge of your entrance, teasing and skimming along the skin there. Involuntarily, you convulse, but there’s nothing there, only a tongue that laps over your entrance like a hot seal before sliding away to worry at the tender flesh outside.

Warmth teases at the edge of fire in your abdomen, the edges alive with so much sensation it nearly all blurs into a heat so great it stings even he lavishes you with relief and greater stimulation at once.

He licks at you, broad and long, _pressing_ tongue into flesh so that you feel every inch of him dragging across your swollen arousal, and the moan he’d pulled from you draws long out as you climax once again, walls tightening around emptiness even as your folds rippled with waves of satisfied _want_.

Warm and warmer until your sex is burning with hyperactive heat, with post-orgasmic bliss that he works back into a frenzy with his unfaltering attentions.

And that’s just one; he wants _more_ from you, more and more and _even_ more.

Without delay, his tongue finds your clit. Swirling about it, carefully with the underside, slippery, smooth skin against the most sensitive patch of nerves, since spared his attentions until now. He lets his tongue lay out flat over you, spreading over folds of skin and your entrance and your clit alike.

Then he tilts his chin up, dragging himself slowly and painfully and _exquisitely_ over you, tongue pressed hard over every inch of flesh as though to savor everything he could fit in his mouth. He doesn’t move, not the slightest bit faster, when you whimper and whine, long since past the point of bucking into him or yanking his hair.

So you lie there, helpless, forced to feel the time between the seconds drawn out with every heartbeat as he tastes you. Tongue drooling at the flavor, every point of contact pressing in as though he could fuse his flesh to yours, letting you feel the texture of his tongue in immaculate detail with hypersensitive nerves as he slid it slowly up.

Like velvet, wet and hot and pulsing with life against you, he pulls over your folds, more feeling than you’d ever asked for and still nothing compared to the numb heat of pleasure that stirred within.

The tip of it meets your clit and swirls, pressing, harder than he’d been able before. A controlled length of muscle pulled to a point and _pushing,_ the touch sends lightning and thunder through you all at once, a jolt that moves you deeper than the lavished ministrations he’d made to your swollen folds, raw and tender.

He nudges it again and again, until your legs are shaking even when you’d thought yourself well past the point of movement, trembling with exhaustion and rapture alike. Touch after touch, he prods you, lips closing over your folds and sucking every time he brings his tongue away, never leaving you bereft, never leaving you without him on you.

Emet works you up and doesn’t stop, pays no heed to your cries and moans and just lets himself take you, taste you, feel every bit of you with tongue and lips.

When it comes, it’s a release as painful as it is glorious, like lightning splitting you open. Your sex is nearly on fire, long since past the point of a pleasant buzz or thrum of arousal. Every heartbeat, every pulse makes itself known in each individual fold and crevice of your sex, bared to the air, soaked in your own wetness and his saliva. 

Your Emet parts from your sex, lips slick and coated in your release, watching you take wide, heaving gasps as he rises. Arms trail from your waist and sides to push himself up, holding down your legs, a restraint that tempts to you rise on your own, but he lowers himself back down onto you, crawling up your body as he moves.

His hair is a mess; it would be entertaining, were it not for the smirk he wore so terribly prominently. Like a dark halo all around him, violet catching on the light from behind him.

“Bastard.” It’s a word entirely without bite, without venom, but you channel what annoyance you can into it at your boneless, limp, and helpless state.

Undeterred, he lays a kiss on your crown, hands holding your head in place. Emet lets his lips rest there for a moment, and then another, feeling the heat radiating from you, into him.

“I assure you, my dear,” He says, laying himself gently beside you, arranging you to lay more comfortably against him, shifting weary limbs into less straining positions, “You need not worry. Your affections are returned.”

You don’t get a chance to tell him he’s wrong, before your eyes close and darkness claims you, but you wouldn’t have meant it, anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more I have written for this than smut, I swear...


	4. Purse

“Pick out one you like, too.” You say offhandedly, glancing over a bag with silver decals, “You’ll be carrying it.”

The way he looks at you is nothing short of patently unimpressed. “I have my own bag, my dear.”

“You don’t carry your briefcase everywhere,” Leaning down to inspect a pastel blue one, you turn it over in your hands. The strap isn’t very nice looking.

“ _That_ should speak to my preference for not carrying bags around. Not my availability to do so.”

“Oh, good! I hadn’t even thought of that.” Sparing him a knowing glance with a flicker of a smile at the face he makes, you say, “You’ll only have to carry _one_ bag, then. Isn’t that lucky?”

A soft noise of disdain is your only response. You pick up a dark one, with red embroidery on it. “This one is nice!”

“I am not carrying it.”

This might just be the one. Such lovely embroidery; just running your hands over it feels quite nice. The strap is a pretty thing, a shiny chain with a ribbon-like band woven through it, linked quite sturdily at the ends. A clasp under the front flap is what holds it closed, but who would try to pickpocket _Emet?_

The hand on your shoulder taps, then squeezes, gently.

“Do you like it, too?” You’ve already decided to get it.

Sighing, Emet leans further down, snatching it from your hands – holding it with his fingertips away from his body. “Is that _all?_ ”

“I might check out some things on the way out, but yes. We can go clothes shopping another time.” You stand up and start walking, navigating the upscale surroundings and exceptionally bright fluorescent lighting to get to the register; Emet follows with wordless ease.

“Hmph.” He sounds a bit grouchy, but there’s a warmth in his tone, “ _You_ will go clothes shopping. I will accompany, of course – but otherwise, I am in no need of clothing.”

“I’m glad you want to come with me! Please feel free to tell me how beautiful I look in everything.” As you speak, you reach back, catching his hand in your own.

Warm fingers wrap over your hand in return with a calm gentility that has you tightening your grasp, rubbing your thumb over it as you swing your hand with his.

“I give only honest assessments, love. You will find no empty flattery in me.”

“What about full flattery? How much of that can I expect to find?”

His smile warms your chest, brief as it is, “That depends entirely on what you wear.”

“I’ll bring this along with me, then!” You gesture to the purse he still carried so gingerly, “Extra stylish, no?”

Emet tsks at you, “For a woman. Does that mean you do not intend to have me carry it the whole time?”

“Hush, you,” With no small amount of entertainment, you bump your shoulder into him, receiving only a blank look in reply – you know better, the flicker in his eyes betrays his amusements – and saying, “As long as you’re with me, anyone would be able to tell whose it is.”

“If it is _yours,_ then perhaps _you_ should carry it. Just a suggestion.”

You shrug, and smile, moving with a bounce in your step that hadn’t been there before.

He’s dressed as elegant as always, in a suit worth more money than most of the cars in the surrounding lot. Looking as grumpy and annoyed as ever in that sleek black suit and long coat, a long, thin scarf over his shoulders following the lines of his coat to his waist. He’s got his gloves on, even, looking every bit the debonair businessman he is.

Excepting, of course, for the equally expensive purse he had slung over his shoulder. Metal glinting in the sunlight, the delicate red design catching the eye, as fine as the rest of his ensemble… but clearly not as masculine.

Those golden eyes scan quickly over the crowds, flitting over murmuring onlookers and admirers alike until he hones in on you at once, stepping towards you and giving you an impatient wave the moment he does.

As soon as he moves, he takes the purse off his shoulder, letting the strap rest on his wrist as he grabbed it by the top, letting it sway with his hand as he walked.

Emet brings it to you, exactly as you ask, placing it in your hands with the same annoyed expectance of a parent delivering to a child a lost lunch.

“Thank you,” You say as you accept it, noting how he clucks his tongue at your response, raising a brow.

It’s totally possible he knows that you did this intentionally. In fact, you might even call it probable.

“Yes, whatever would you do without me?” He bursts into an annoyed tirade at once, “I am the light of your life, the center of your world, your everything – please, try not to praise me _too_ much. I may come to harbor all sorts of _ideas,_ such as that you _like_ me, or something equally absurd.”

“I love you,” You sing to him, throwing your arms around his shoulder and pulling him forward; the unexpected motion has him leaning in, eyes widening with surprise until he grasps back at you to steady himself, “Say it back!”

Smiling for him, looking at him with that bright, expectant expression – Emet feels his heart twist around in his chest just a little. Ah, but how endearing you are, when you hang on his words like that, how positively _enraptured._

“Actions speak louder than words.” Meeting your gaze, he arches a perfectly groomed brow at you, watching your lashes lower as you pout.

“Say it back!” You command, inclining your face and narrowing your eyes.

Fingers dig into his shoulders, crinkling designer clothes, and when he can _feel_ them poking hard into his flesh, while your gaze burns holes in him.

The smile tickling at his lips turns into a wide laugh, and he pulls you flush against him, nuzzling your cheek with his own. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a number of chapters already written for this modern au... but I keep... FORGETTING... to update... AHHHHH.
> 
> Anyways if you're a fan of modern au, @kiryuin on twitter has a thread she keeps up to date, filled with headcanons, pics, and the occasional very lovely fanart! It's all the same au as the one I'm writing for, so stuff that shows up there might possibly appear in here, and vice versa ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I'll see if I can't update this a bit more frequently, given the size of each update, but I've got some other projects I've newly started and am really enjoying working on so... look out, world? XD

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! Remember how I was going to uh. Update Preconceptions weekly? We'll see about that, finals are next week and I really need to perform. *sigh* Next semester is my last before I graduate so... 
> 
> Anyways, I've written these much smaller pieces - like, some of them under 1k words small - mostly to share with friends on discord, all in good fun. But I've been encouraged to share them on here, because I get frustrated when I don't post or update anything regularly, and I have a few pieces for this series pre-written already. Expect updates sporadically, but potentially often, because they're supposed to be very small works as a modern AU, I'm able to draw inspiration for chapters from real life. 
> 
> Tbh most of the first few chapters will be porn. I do have non-porn chapters, but most of them are fluff or cute romance pieces. Hope you guys enjoy!


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